I'll probably be in a box lying down loosely suited in black.

He's burried.

The planning is over. The running around is over. Now we're all hanging around reminiscing. That part is nice. I just wish it could have been under different circumstances.

It's bizarre. I hadn't really been in touch with him in a while. I always kept up to date on what he was doing and we passed notes back and forth through friends/family, but we haven't been a constant part of each other's lives in years. And yet, I feel his absence so acutely. He had such a wonderful and excited spirit. The fact that it's gone is so very noticible.


This sums it up nicely:
Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling into at night. I miss you like hell.
Edna St. Vincent Millay